


To the Victor

by RunWonderlandRun



Series: Satin in a Coffin [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 15:41:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunWonderlandRun/pseuds/RunWonderlandRun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Both him and Scott nodded. Peter grinned. He tugged Scott’s clothes off and threw them across the room. He heard a zipper being undone, and the rustling of clothes hitting the floor. He jumped when he felt a hand run up his thighs, but relaxed when he realized it was Scott.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To the Victor

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of dark; and violent. Peter isn't nice, so fair warning.

 

                In the dark of night, Stiles thought about the gun hidden in the basement of his father’s house. The gun filled with wolfs bane bullets. He thought about the gun when the lacrosse team shot him and Scott dirty looks. He thought about the gun when Scott came to him at night, bruised and bloody from Peter’s attention.

                “Try not to move,” Stiles bit into his gag, “it’ll only hurt more.”

                “Peter,” Scott cried, “please, I’m sorry, please.”

                Stiles breathed through his nose and tried to calm down. He grabbed onto the rope cutting into his wrists. The sheets beneath him were starting to get damp with his sweat. His legs were free, but every time he moved them, Peter would lay a hand on Stiles back and squeeze.

                “You know the rules, Scott.”

                “It—it was—I didn’t say anything! I swear I just—“

                Something in the air cracked and Stiles tried to scream. The skin on his back felt as if it was being tugged away. He’d barely caught his breath when Peter brought down the whip again and again, and again. Stiles thrashed all over the bed, desperate to escape he pain. His wrists were slick with blood from trying to get away.

                “Please, don’t!” Scott shrieked.

                “I told you,” Peter said, his voice loud but soft; he kept whipping Stiles, “I told you not to talk to Deaton and you disobeyed me.”

                Stiles curled into a ball to try and protect himself. His back felt as if it was on fire. He could feel his blood dripping down onto the sheets. His throat was raw from screaming and his gag was soaked in spit and Stiles just wanted Peter to stop.

                “I swear I didn’t ask him anything, I swear,” Scott choked out, “Peter! Peter please, stop!”

                Stiles vision was getting blurry. He felt as if he was drowning. Just when he thought he was going to pass out, Peter stopped. Stiles sagged onto the mattress and tried to breathe. His nose was stuffed up and he couldn’t open his mouth. As if reading his thoughts, Peter gently untied the gag and threw it aside. Stiles took in a gulp of air before coughing. Carefully, Peter turned Stiles head towards him. The older man looked disappointed but Stiles noticed that he was hard. Sighing, Peter grabbed a wet washcloth. Stiles could hear Scott crying in the background. He wanted to comfort him, but Stiles could barely move.

                “I thought you boys were starting to behave,” Peter started to wipe Stiles face, cleaning up the drool, snot and tears, “I can see I was wrong.”

                Scott let out a whine and Stiles flinched. When Peter was done cleaning up his face, he moved to Stiles wrists.

                “Oh,” Peter made a face, “that looks a bit painful,” he chuckled as he cut the ropes and let them drop. Stiles gasped and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Peter caressed his cheek, “I’ll be right back,” Stiles heard him move towards the door. He heard the clanging of chains and something being unlocked, “Look after him, Scott.”  
                As soon as Peter left, Scott was by his side, crying, his hands fluttering just above Stiles back.

                “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

                “Hey,” Stiles grimaced. He moved his head to meet Scott’s bright yellow eyes. Blood stained his friend’s clothes and skin, “Peter got you too, huh?”

                “I swear I didn’t mean to,” Scott laid a hand on Stiles neck. The sharp pain in his back started to dull a little, “He just—he was at the store, and he asked—I didn’t say anything, I swear,” Stiles relaxed into the bed and closed his eyes.

                “Scott,” he moaned, “I believe you. Don’t worry about it,” Scott kneeled on the floor next to him. He nuzzled Stiles head and neck. Minutes later, Peter came back into the room. Scott tensed next to him. Stiles heard Peter place something on the side table. He wrinkled his nose at the smell.

                “No,” he mumbled, “God not that, please.”

                “As much as I love you covered in bruises and blood, I can’t have your father getting suspicious.” Stiles turned his head away from Peter and covered his nose. Scott gagged beside him. A second later, he felt a thick liquid pouring over his welts. He bit the pillow and tried not to shriek. Peter gently spread the liquid over his wounds, before spreading his hands across Stiles back. The pain disappeared. Stiles could feel his skin knitting back together.

                “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

                Peter helped him sit up against the headboard and Stiles let him, too tired to protest. Scott clambered up beside him, trembling. Stiles noticed that the front of Peter’s shirt was splattered in blood.  

                “Scott,” Peter said, “I’m very disappointed in you,” Scott hugged Stiles arm and hunched over, “I thought we’ve gotten past this.”

                “I’m sorry,” Scott repeated. He crawled to Peter, his head falling on the older man’s shoulder, “He just—he just asked me if we were ok and-and I told him that we were, I swear I didn’t say anything else, I promise, he just—“

                “Shh,” Peter ran his hands down Scott’s back, “I believe you Scott,” the older werewolf kissed Scott’s neck. Stiles closed his eyes. His back and wrists felt sore, “however…next time you see Deaton, I want you to turn around, and walk the other way,” Peter tugged Stiles hair. He grunted and opened his eyes, “that goes for both of you.”

                Both him and Scott nodded. Peter grinned. He tugged Scott’s clothes off and threw them across the room. He heard a zipper being undone, and the rustling of clothes hitting the floor. He jumped when he felt a hand run up his thighs, but relaxed when he realized it was Scott.

                “I think you owe Stiles an apology, don’t you Scott?”

                His friend didn’t answer. Stiles felt the hand on his thigh move up towards his groin. Licking his lips, Stiles opened his legs. Peter chuckled. Scott’s breath ghosted over his cock and Stiles let out a breath of anticipation. His friend moaned and started to lick up and down Stiles length.

                “That’s it,” Stiles looked over at Peter, licking his lips. The older man had his legs spread; his pants were opened but his hands were clutching the arm rests, “take him in, Scott.”

                “Oh!” Stiles eyes rolled back when he felt Scott take him in his mouth. Shuddering, he grabbed onto Scott’s hair and pulled, “oh my God,” his friend’s tongue moved under the head of his cock before moving to the tip, slightly sucking. Whimpering, Stiles thrashed underneath him. He let go to Scott’s hair and grabbed onto the sheet beneath him. Sweat pricked his skin.

                “Use your hands, Scott,” Peter gasped. Stiles let his eyes wander to Peter. The older werewolf was standing just to the side, pants and underwear gone. His eyes were red. Scott ran his hands up Stiles chest and gently tugged at his nipples. Stiles groaned and drove his cock further into Scott’s mouth. The bed dipped slightly. Peter stared down at him and tapped a finger against his lips. Stiles mouth fell open. Smiling, Peter ran his finger over Stiles lips. Scott pulled back a little before diving back in. He hummed around Stiles cock.

                “Ah  Scott,” he cried out, “oh, oh, oh!”

                Peter dipped his finger into Stiles mouth, “My boys,” Peter pulled his finger back. Scott gave out a long whine and shifted. Peter grabbed Scott’s hair.

                “Uh-uh,” the older man caressed Scott’s cheek, “you’re not allowed to come tonight,” Scott let go of Stiles cock and looked up, mouth red and eyes glazed. Stiles really wanted to kiss him.

                “I didn’t tell you to stop,” Peter guided Scott’s mouth back to Stiles cock, “make your brother cum, Scott.”

                Stiles felt a shameful thrill run up his back and settle in his stomach. Laughing, Peter helped Stiles sit up. The older werewolf sat behind him. Sighing, he tilted Stiles head to the right before biting down on his neck. At the same time, Scott sucked hard on his cock. Throwing his head back, Stiles let out a howl and came down Scott’s throat.

                “There you go,” Peter licked the mark he left. Stiles hissed. Scott released him with a pop and shot to his knees. He grabbed Stiles head and kissed him. Whimpering, Stiles molded his body to Scott’s and sucked on his tongue. His friend’s hip jerked forward, his cock hard.

                “What do you think, Stiles?” Peter muttered in his ear, his breath hot, “do you think Scott deserves to cum?”

                Stiles nodded frantically. He was about to wrap his hand around Scott’s cock, but Peter stopped him.

                “No,” Peter whispered, “let me.”

                Soon enough, his Alpha had Stiles sitting against the headboard, his limbs heavy and useless. Scott was lying down between his legs, his ass being held up by Peter. Arousal filled Stiles, quickly followed by hatred. He hated being with Peter. He hated watching Peter with Scott. He hated when Peter watched them. But what Stiles hated most was how turned on they both got.

                “You’re such a lucky boy,” Peter locked eyes with Stiles, “to have such a forgiving brother.”

                Stiles lowered his eyes and ran his fingers through Scott’s sweaty hair. Scott rubbed his face over Stiles stomach before gently biting at it. Stiles heard a bottle being opened. Blinking, he watched as Peter covered three of his fingers in lube, before dripping some between Scott’s ass. In a daze, Stiles watched as his Alpha circled one finger around Scott’s entrance before carefully pushing it in. Scott groaned against his stomach.

                “Tell me Scott,” Peter pushed another finger in. He bent forward and nipped at Scott’s back, “what are you going to do if Deaton tries to talk to you again?”

                Scott panted but didn’t say anything. Peter twisted his fingers and Scott grabbed Stiles hands.

                “I’m,” Scott whined, “I’m going to walk away.”

                Stiles entwined his fingers with Scott’s. He bit his tongue.

                Peter gave a lazy smile, “Good,” he looked at Stiles and bared his teeth, “I knew you’d see it my way.”

                Stiles looked back down at Scott. He couldn’t afford to say anything to Peter; not when his friend was in such a vulnerable position. Eyes stinging, Stiles kept watching Peter prepare Scott. When the older werewolf was done, he grabbed Scott’s ass with clawed hands. Stiles gasped but Peter shook his head. Scott tensed. Eyes red, Peter dug his claws into Scott’s hip and slowly entered him. Scott pushed his head into Stiles stomach, shaking. Stiles let go of Scott’s hands to run his hands down his friend’s back.

                “Peter, no, no—Peter please,” Stiles begged.

                “You may have forgiven him,” Peter growled out. His fangs were out, “But I haven’t.”

                Stiles bent his head and kissed Scott’s forehead. A second later, Scott was pushed violently against him.

                “God!” his friend screamed. Stiles winced. When Scott tried to raise his head, Stiles gently pushed it back down.

                “It’s ok,” Stiles whispered. He tried to ignore the sounds of Peter violently fucking Scott, “It’s ok,” his voice cracked, “it’s going to be ok.”

                “Both of you need to understand,” Peter gasped out, “that I am your Alpha,” he raked his claws down Scott’s sides. Blood dripped down onto the sheet. Stiles hunched further down over Scott. His friend’s cheeks were wet with tears.

                “I love you,” Stiles told him through his own tears, “I love you.”

                Stiles couldn’t tune out the noises. He couldn’t ignore the rhythmic smacks of skin against skin. He couldn’t ignore Peter’s coos and snarls of pleasure. He couldn’t ignore Scott’s crying. After what seemed like an eternity, Peter’s thrusts turned frenzied and short.

                “You are mine,” the older werewolf growled out, “you and Stiles are mine.” Stiles met Peter’s eyes. He looked more wolf than man. Roaring, Peter sank his fangs into Scott’s back before stilling. Scott screamed and dug his nails into Stiles back.  

                “Ah,” Peter sighed before pulling out. Scott whined but didn’t move; not until Peter stood from the bed. Groaning, Scott let his body drop onto the mattress. Stiles moved so that he was lying down next to his friend.

                “When do you need to be home?” Peter asked while he dressed. Stiles didn’t answer at first.  
                “Stiles,” Peter sang, “I asked you a question.”

                “It’s a school night,” Stiles petted Scott’s back, “dad said he wanted us back by ten.”

                “Well,” Peter buttoned up his shirt and fixed his hair. He smiled benevolently at Stiles, “we have a couple more hours then. I’ll go order some Chinese for us.” Still smiling, Peter walked back towards the bed. Stiles wrapped his arms around Scott, afraid. But Peter merely kissed each of them on the head before leaving the room. Once he was gone, Scott broke down sobbing.

                “It’s ok,” Stiles lied, “Scott, it’s going to be ok.”

                “I’m sorry,” Scott repeated, “I swear I didn’t say anything, I—“

                “I know,” Stiles tugged his friend closer. He was careful not to touch the claw marks or the bite, “I know. It’s not your fault, Scott. It’s not your fault.”

                _It’s mine_ , Stiles thought. _It’s mine for being curious about Peter. It’s mine for wanting to find out about Kate. It’s mine for bringing you into this._

                Stiles closed his eyes. When the food arrived, Peter would feed them by hand. Minutes before they left, the older werewolf would treat Scott so that Melissa wouldn’t see anything. Stiles mind went back to the gun hidden in his basement. The gun that was filled with wolfs bane bullets; the gun that Stiles would never fire, because there was too much at risk.

                “It’ll be ok,” Stiles repeated, staring at the ceiling, “it’ll be ok.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is turning into a series. Working on the first part, which will explain WHY Scott and Stiles are in this predicament. There will also be a part from Derek's, Melissa's, and the Sheriff's pov...this series won't have a happy ending.


End file.
